Karmic Tax Poem by Aniruddha Pathak

Finishing tax returns one late night,
Preparing I was to have sound sleep,
And I heard a strange voice, stranger sight,
My eye-lids were heavy and sunk deep.
Chitragupta, he said with heavy breath,
I knew him as a book-keeper there—
Pearly Gate's no-appeal court at Death,
Enquired he: have ye paid tax, and fair?
In advance—and tax paid off at source,
Deducted duly from salary,
I replied feeling proud, yes of course.
No my friend, my books look contrary.
No, my tax cannot be outstanding,
I offered a tad irritated,
Here, do check my papers, everything,
Have I missed a tax on any head?

For a night-long daily peaceful sleep,
Ye aught pay by helping someone sleep;
For golden sun, dew drops every dawn,
Help spread light in someone's darkling life,
Providence has fragrant flowers grown,
Should not ye soften up someone's strife?
If haply in this life ye do live,
Isn't it debt O ye oblivious head?
Learned man art thou and aught ye give,
Think of debts outstanding, still unpaid.
Think of obligations unfulfilled,
Pay, a bridge for better life to build.

You've taken things given and granted,
In my books tagged are they bold and red,
Remember, naught so is owned by thee—
Rain is not, nor is sun—naught comes free,
Pay in time, penalty to avoid,
And we charge a surcharge, a cess too,
Long a free supply of fruits' enjoyed,
Sowing seeds, nor doing labour due,
Sow new seeds, better still sacrifice,
Else, loaded shall get thine Karmic dice,
Sacrifice is self-paid advance tax,
Pay up ere deadlines go past the max.

So saying he bang-closed his huge book,
I woke up rubbing my heavy eyes,
Mirror showed me a tax-dodger's look,
Penitent the dream made me, and wise.
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Reflections | 01.01.13 |